


Florida Man with Robot Arm Carries Gator to Other Side of Road

by d0g-bless (d0gbless)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Florida, Post-Canon, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 10:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16015778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d0gbless/pseuds/d0g-bless
Summary: The Garrison offers Shiro a job he can't refuse. The catch? It's in Cape Canaveral, Florida, the land of old people, extreme heat and humidity, and allergens. In other words: a place almost guaranteed to make his girlfriend miserable.He's lucky Pidge loves him more than the internet, otherwise she wouldn't have moved with him.Together, the two deal with nosy neighbors, save alligators, and learn that maybe Florida isn't the worst place in the world to live.





	Florida Man with Robot Arm Carries Gator to Other Side of Road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keylimepidge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keylimepidge/gifts), [Costellos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Costellos/gifts), [smolgreenpaladin (smolgreennerd)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolgreennerd/gifts), [battleshidge (Amiria_Raven)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amiria_Raven/gifts).



> Special thanks to keylimepidge for betaing this fic as well as coming up with the general concept in a Discord server.
> 
> And also, thanks to everyone else who kept adding ideas and suggestions to flesh this out. You guys are great. I hope you enjoy this fic in all its silliness.

“The Galaxy Garrison has announced its decision to relocate its education center from Phoenix, Arizona, to right here in Cape Canaveral. Commander Samuel Holt, who started his career at the Garrison’s Cape Canaveral base, was instrumental in suggesting this move. We have an exclusive interview with him coming up after this breeeeeeak—” The reporter sounded like she was part of a slow-motion sports replay as the TV turned off.

Lucille clicked her tongue against the back of her dentures. “I don’t care about this space project. I want the weather forecast. Guess the only way to do that proper now is to step outside.”

Brittle joints popped as she forced herself up from her loveseat and hobbled toward the front door. Lucille readjusted her teal bathrobe — couldn’t go scarring passers-by, now could she? — and stepped out into her porch.

A few lizards who’d spent the morning sunning themselves on warm concrete scurried away upon Lucille’s grand entrance. “That’s right, get on out of here, you squatters! Scram! Begone!” Her slightly upturned nose crinkled in a sneer. “Disgusting little things.” Once the lizards were gone — or at least out of her sight — she looked up and gasped.

A moving van slowed to a stop across the street. Considering this section of street was in the middle of the block, it was unlikely its driver was at a light or stop sign. This meant one thing.

The unoccupied half of the townhouse across the street was no longer going to be unoccupied. What sort of people were moving in? A retired couple, more likely than not. Lucille would put money on it.

A silver Toyota Corolla rolled up behind the moving van. A very nice vehicle for certain, something a retiree who’d saved up from their high paying job would drive. If only she could see the driver, but the car’s tinted windows made it near impossible to make out the driver from the inside.

Not that she’d have to worry about that for long. The driver exited the vehicle, slamming the door behind him.

Lucille squinted. The driver had snow white hair — perhaps even a shade lighter than her own white hair — and was without question a handsome man, perhaps in his late 60s or mid-70s. One arm of his blinded her as the sun’s light hit it. He had to be a retired war veteran. And those muscles!

She patted down her white curls, hoping she looked even slightly presentable to such a fine specimen of a man. If she played her cards right, maybe she’d have him to herself by the end of the week.

Unless Helen got to him first. She gave her next-door neighbor’s house the evil eye.

Not on her watch. She would win the heart of this man, Helen or no Helen.

* * *

Pidge sneezed, splattering an ungodly amount of mucus into the crook of her elbow. “That settles it,” she said. “I am not stepping foot outside. I mean, if the allergens are that bad in here, I don’t want to even think about how bad it is outside.” She shuddered.

Her shiver did not go unnoticed by her boyfriend, who sighed and offered her his jacket. “You thought about it, didn’t you?”

Pidge wiped the snot off with Shiro’s jacket. “No shit.” She blew her nose with it as if it were no different than a tissue, then attempted to return it.

Shiro held up a hand. “Keep it. Consider it an apology for us moving all the way out here.”

“Shiro —”

“Had I known your allergies would’ve been this bad, I wouldn’t have—” Pidge’s lips pressed against his own, ceasing his ramblings and any sense of reason he had a second ago. Standing on point with the grace of a ballerina, Pidge wrapped her arms around Shiro’s neck and ran her hands through his silky hair. She pulled back, leaving only a few centimeters between them.

“Listen to me, Takashi Shirogane. This is a fantastic job opportunity, and I would have been pissed if you didn’t take it because of me. I mean, you’re going to be one of the highest-ranking flight instructors out here. That’s a big deal!”

Shiro opened his mouth to protest.

“Besides, I lived here as a kid,” Pidge continued. “If I can survive the allergies and humidity and disgustingness that is Florida once, I can do it again. And with my freelancing work, it’s not like I had to quit a job. You’ll go and be great.”

“You’re only saying that because this is a two-year contract, aren’t you?”

Pidge’s lips curled into a smirk. “That might be part of it. And because my boyfriend gives solid advice that’s easily quotable. We should make a series of prints and calendars featuring you and your words of wisdom. Easy money.”

“I’m open to it as long as I don’t have to pose naked.”

“Shirtless?”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Noted.” Pidge gathered up a stack of boxes with a grunt. “I’m going to set up my office. I can’t let us live off your measly salary — I mean, what are we, animals? That’s what we’d be if it was just your paycheck. We’d never be able to eat take out again. We’d have to wrestle alligators for scraps or starve.”

As Pidge studied each room she passed, Shiro studied his girlfriend’s perfect ass: Toned from years of fighting but still soft enough for him to squeeze and the right size for him to cup with one hand.

She’d chosen to move in wearing her shortest pair of athletic shorts. Though Pidge had said it was because Florida is “too fucking hot for anything else,” Shiro wondered if she was torturing him for moving them out here. So far, she was doing a pretty damn good job if that was the case.

_Ding-dong! Ding-dong!_

“Shiro?”

He knew that tone of hers, the one that said, _“I’m too busy to deal with people, and if you don’t answer the goddamn door, I am not going to help you put our bed together like I said I would.”_ Yup, that was the one, alright. “I’m on it!” he called, hoping it didn’t sound too much like a pained “yes, dear.”

* * *

_Ding-dong!_

Helen withdrew a gnarled French-tipped finger away from the doorbell with a huff. How long does it take for a man to answer a door? Why, back when she’d courted her dear Tom (may he rest in peace), all it took was a single knock and the scent of her famous cherry pie to gain entry into his home — and eventually, his life. Though it might’ve helped that he’d been 40 years younger with pristine hearing. Perhaps the newest neighbor was hard of hearing. Not uncommon around here.

“Coming!” The door handle jiggled. “Sorry, trying to get the hang of this doorknob.”

Helen clutched her hand against her chest. This man had one of the most handsome voices she’d ever heard. _Calm down, Helen. No need to swoon over him yet._ _I must play my cards right, just like how I do at Lucille’s bridge club._ “N-no need to worry! Please, take your time.”

The door squeaked open, revealing the man she saw moving into the town house earlier this morning. “Hello?”

“Oh, my!” The man, handsome though he was, was far younger than she’d thought him to be. Still, simply because he wasn’t on the market for her age group didn’t mean she was going to end things here and now.

“Is everything alright?” the handsome man asked. “Do you need help with something?”

Helen laughed her shock off. “Oh, no, I was just stopping by to introduce myself.” She offered her hand. “I’m Helen. I live across the street.”

“I’m Shiro.” He took Helen’s outstretched hand into his left hand and shook it, his grip neither too firm nor too loose.

Helen clapped her other hand around Shiro’s and patted it. _No ring. Single. Might have to let my grandkids know._ “That’s a different name. Rather exotic. Chinese, is it?”

Shiro rubbed the back of his neck with his silver hand, which glinted in the Florida sun. “Um, Japanese, actually.” He slipped out from Helen’s hand sandwich. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you, Helen.”

“Oh, Helen! What a surprise it is to see you here!” Lucille’s words dripped with malice — a powerful contrast against her sweet, cherubic smile. “I see you’ve met the new neighbor already! Please, introduce me to your future hus—” Wait. This man with white hair wasn’t old at all! Why he’d decided to go with this look was beyond her. “Our future handsome neighbor!”

Helen raised a brow at Lucille’s lame recovery. “Lucille, this is Shiro. Shiro, Lucille.”

“Why, it is so lovely to meet you, Shiro! I live across the street from you and next door to Helen. Oh, and I brought you a little something-something as a welcoming gift.” Lucille planted a Tupperware box in Shiro’s hands. “They’re my famous peanut butter cookies.”

“Wow, thanks!” Shiro beamed at the little old ladies from across the street. “I know these will get eaten here. Hopefully they’ll last more than a day. Or a few hours. We’ll see.”

 _Thunk!_ The sound drew Shiro’s attention back to the inside of the house. “Listen, it was great meeting you two, but I need to finish moving in. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Of course!”

“It was so nice meeting you, sweetheart. Stop by any time.”

Shiro shut the door without another word.

Helen looked to Lucille. “He seems a little strange. I mean, he’s young and he’s dyed his hair white.”

“Could be stress,” Lucille said. “I mean, he only has one arm. The other one is the fanciest prosthetic I’ve ever seen with my own two eyes.”

“Well, you still should get your vision checked, hon,” Helen countered. “I can’t believe you thought I was going to hit on him. ‘Your future husband’? Really? Though I suppose you weren’t wrong in thinking he’s single.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Easy.” Helen held up her hand to show off her wedding ring. “He doesn’t have one of these.”

Lucille cackled. “Please, you were smitten with him! You had to find out if he had a wedding ring.”

Helen fanned her reddening face. One positive thing about living in Florida: She could pass off any blushing as heat or sunburn. “I am going to have to set him with one of my grandkids.”

“Well, you’d better hurry up on that, Hel. A man like that doesn’t stay single for long.”

* * *

“It is just me, or does the internet seem to be running slower ever since the new kid moved in across the street?”

“Don’t be stupid, Betty.” The beaded strings on Helen’s glasses jingled as she peeled the frames off her face. Everyone knew Betty had the best vision all bridge club members and was the worst cheater. The bitch read off of the reflection of players’ glasses. The only things that kept Betty in the club were the grace and glory of God — and Lucille’s forgiving heart. “You forgot the Wi-Fi password again.”

Lucille supplied Betty the password as if it were no more than a candy bar on Halloween. “It’s 123!Password with a capital P.”

The 70-something trick-or-treater shook her head. “I don’t get why everyone has their Wi-Fi all locked up. I mean, are people trying to hide or protect something? I have nothing to hide —”

“Other than your winnings from cheating,” Helen spat, earning herself an icy glare from Lucille. Helen could almost hear her next-door neighbor’s voice chastising her with that withering look. Practically telepathy, it was.

Though Betty had the best vision of the bridge club, her hearing was either highly selective or nonexistent. Helen would put down money on the former as she listened to the cheater babble on like she hadn’t heard any accusations.

“Don’t you think it strange?”

Lucille cocked her head and winced — damn that crick in her neck. “What’s strange, dear?”

“You know, ever since that strapping young man moved in, it’s not just my Wi-Fi that’s been strange.” Her voice dropped to a raspy whisper: “He leaves the lights on all day long.”

“He what?”

“I said, he leaves the lights on all day long!” Betty slammed her walking cane against the floor. “My God, Helen, you need to get your ears cleaned out and vision checked.”

Helen’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You know, Betty, you might be on to something. But you know, my Medicare coverage doesn’t do much for me there. Think you could help pay with your winnings from cheating?”

“That is enough!” Lucille threw her cards down on the table. “The two of you know that I need to keep my blood pressure low, and the doctors have insisted that I relax. And I cannot relax with the two of you bickering in my own home! Get out!”

Helen shot up from her seat and tossed her giant purse over her shoulder. As the youngest bridge club member, she lacked the rheumatism others in the club had, though her occasional bouts of joint pain reminded her to enjoy smooth movement while it lasted. “Lucille, if I were you, I’d keep an eye on that one. And your pearls. She’s been eyeing them for the last few weeks. If they go missing, you’ll know who’s to blame.” With that, Helen stormed out of Lucille’s house, slamming the door behind her.

She primed her coppery curls — a reminder of her former glory as a redhead who’d never quite go gray — and stared off across the empty street.

There was no sign of Shiro’s car, but just as Betty had said, the townhouse’s lights had been left on.

“How curious,” Helen murmured. “Perhaps he forgot to turn them off.”

Perhaps Betty wasn’t a liar after all — just a cheater.

* * *

“Oh, there you are!”

Shiro stiffened at the friendly voice from behind him. He pulled his hand out of the empty mailbox and pressed it against his chest, over his racing heart.

Lucille hobbled around the young man so he could see her. The frantic look in Shiro’s eyes teleported her back to her younger years, much of which she’d spent caring for her husband after he’d returned from the war. He’d lost a limb, and at times, she’d wondered if he’d lost his mind as well. The tiniest of unexpected sounds would send Ben into a frenzied panic attack. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, dear.”

“It’s — I’m fine.” Now that he’d managed to pull himself back together, Shiro smiled at the little old lady. “Anything I can do for you, Lucille?”

A coy little smile — eerily reminiscent of Pidge’s cunning smirk — smoothed Lucille’s wrinkled face. “Well, you see, my family and I are having a barbecue this Saturday, and we would be delighted to have you join us.”

Shiro ran a mental check on his schedule: _Teaching, teaching, teaching, dinner with Pidge, teaching… no school Saturday._ “Would I be allowed to bring another guest?”

Lucille laughed. “Why, of course! The more the merrier, I always say!”

“Great. And if it’s just me —”

“Perfect. We’ll see you then!” Lucille hummed a little tune as she pranced across the street, eager to welcome Shiro, who might just be the perfect grandson-in-law, into her home and family.

* * *

A startled Pidge leapt up to her feet when she heard the sound of metal knocking against the plastic-y frame of the office door. “Shiro, you can just come in like a normal person.”

The door swished open. Shiro ducked to avoid smacking his forehead against the frame. “Just trying to respect your privacy.”

Pidge snorted. “Yeah, with sliding a glass door. We should’ve moved somewhere with taller doors, huh?”

“Maybe.” He looked over to Pidge’s desktop, which appeared to be running on her internet browser. “How are you getting internet? The ISP said they couldn’t come until Saturday.”

“Easy. Some moron left their Wi-Fi open. Figured I could use that until those assholes finally show up.” She groaned. “Do you have any idea what life without internet is like?”

Shiro chuckled. “Yeah, I do. One year in captivity and a couple more exploring space with my beautiful girlfriend and a bunch of our friends.”

“You are lucky I love you more than the internet.” She stared at him with an intense gaze. “That’s saying a lot.”

Shiro pressed his lips to her temple. “I know. And how are the allergies? And humidity?”

“Better with the meds and humidifier.” Pidge smirked. “I might even love it more than the internet and maybe even a little more than you.”

Her cheeky grin reminded Shiro of Lucille — and the reason why he’d interrupted what he’d assumed was her still setting up her office space. “So, one of the neighbors invited us to a barbecue —”

“Pass.” She wrinkled her nose. “Hard pass.”

“Katie.”

Pidge heaved a sigh. Now that he’d pulled out his biggest weapon, now she’d have to at least hear him out.

“It was a sweet gesture from the lady across the street, and it might be fun. Besides, how else are you going to spend the day without internet?”

Pidge plopped into her seat, a sleek leather chair on wheels. “First of all, I have internet —”

“You know you shouldn’t use that Wi-Fi. Not without asking.”

“I’m borrowing it.” She sank back into her chair’s heavily padded cushions. “It’s not my fault some dumbass left it wide open for the world to use. Besides, I intend to stop using it once those fuckers at the ISP actually show up this time and install the internet. Which, by the way, is something I could do myself if they just turned the internet back on. Could save us a couple hundred bucks.”

“Or maybe land us in legal trouble.”

“Been there, done that, gotten out of it,” Pidge said with a slight shrug. “Besides, I don’t want them touching any of my equipment. And the last point is that… really? A barbecue in this weather? Me going _outside_ ? With _my_ allergies? Maybe another time in another place. Or another reality. Just go and be sure to bring back some food.” Pidge turned her chair around so she could face her computer.

No arguing with her now that she was back to work. “Alright. I’ll be sure to bring those peanut butter cookies you loved.”

Her approval appeared in the form of a thumbs up.

Well, it had been worth a shot.

* * *

Somehow, Shiro had made it through Orlando’s downtown during rush hour traffic unscathed — something years of piloting could never, ever prepare him for doing. Traffic moved slower than the baby sea turtles he and Pidge had watched on the beach while house-hunting.

The motions of those newly hatched turtles waddling toward the ocean imprinted firmly in his memory, along with the scent of saltwater, feeling sand between his toes and Pidge’s hair tangled in his fingers and how _amazing_ it was to finally be safe, ironically unlike those sea turtles, defenseless against predators that would swoop in for a meal. Thankfully that was something he’d never have to deal with again —

Shiro’s foot slammed the breaks, bringing his car to a screeching halt.

Here he was, not even 15 minutes away from Clear Lake Park, only to be stopped by the one of the biggest reptiles Shiro had ever laid eyes on.

Well, biggest if that didn’t count the gargantuan reptilian aliens he’d fought in the ring and war.

That aside, what should he do? He was already running late for Lucille’s get-together, and the only obstacle in his way was an alligator sunning itself in the middle of the road.

In situations like this, it always helped Shiro to imagine himself talking to Keith. “Patience yields focus. Let’s think this one through. List all your options.”

Maybe it was dead. A dead gator in the middle of the road. He could drive over it and not have to worry about it.

Unless it was alive. Not only would he be consumed with guilt for the rest of his life but also the paranoia of police following his every move. Were American alligators a protected species? They probably weren’t on par with bald eagles. Even if you found a dying eagle, you couldn’t save it without risking a steep fine and maybe jail time.

Pidge had said while she grew up in Florida, these giant guys had been everywhere. But that had been years ago — maybe they were endangered now.

 _Pidge._ What would Pidge do in this situation? Shiro conjured up an image of a cackling Pidge behind the wheel exclaiming, “natural selection, bitches!” then flooring it. He shook the thought out of his head. Pidge might not be the most interested in Florida’s natural environment, but she wasn’t the type to let it burn down overnight, either. Heck, she’d be the first in line to end a forest fire.

Two things were for certain: Shiro wasn’t going to run the alligator over with his car, and this stupid beast wasn’t about to move anytime soon.

He set the car in park and turned his hazard lights on. Shiro ducked as he stepped out of the car, lest he slam his forehead against its roof. That had happened more times than he’d like to admit.

The alligator cracked open an eye, flicking it lazily toward Shiro. It raised its head, perhaps to survey the area.

Great. Not only was the giant reptile alive, but it was also awake and alert.

“Scram.” Shiro made a shoo motion with his cybernetic hand. “Get out of here. Go!”

Unimpressed with Shiro’s approach, the gator sealed its eyes shut and opened its mouth slowly, revealing rows of sharp canines meant to bite and tear.

Shiro drew his hand close to his body, unsure if the creature was about to bite. To his relief, it closed its mouth in a gaping yawn and lowered its head against the warm pavement.

Before moving here, he’d read in a Florida guidebook that adult American alligators measured somewhere between 8.5 to 15 feet in length and could weight anywhere from 200 to 500 pounds. This one must be rather young, as it was probably 4.5- to 5-feet-long. With it being that size and presumably young, it was also pretty naïve — or perhaps more accurately, stupid — to sleep out in the middle of the road. Still, Shiro was capable of carrying 200 pounds...

Shiro shook his head. He was thinking about carrying an alligator across the street. It was that, or it was going to die a very unpleasant death. Still, he was running late for the barbecue and out of options.

After taking a deep breath, Shiro scooped the unsuspecting juvenile gator into his arms, quickly clamping his metal hand around the creature’s jaws. “I lost my arm once, and my girlfriend will kill me if she has to replace my prosthetic arm _again_. Don’t you even think about it.”

Thankfully, the alligator didn’t put up a fight as Shiro carried it across the street to safety, earning him whistles, a few claps, and praise from passers-by across the street.

“Good job, Irwin!”

“He’s not from around here, is he?”

“Did you get that on camera?”

“Sure did.”

At this point in his life, Shiro was used to garnering attention, and thought little of what he’d done, which was perhaps an act equally as naïve and stupid as the gator had been.

Didn’t matter at this point, anyways. He had a barbecue to get to, and food to bring back for his girlfriend.

* * *

An ugly white van emblazoned with the word “Con-Cost” printed in bold red all-caps swerved into Shiro’s usual parking spot.

Maybe it wasn’t Con-Cost, but it was hard to tell with Helen’s vision and the muck and grime obscuring a few letters. “Guess they’re going to fix that cheater Betty’s Wi-Fi,” Helen muttered as she rocked back and forth in her porch swing with iced tea in hand. “Shiro’s spot is just convenient for them, I guess.”

A couple of men hopped out of the van, hands filled with snakes — no, cables and wires. Maybe Betty was right to tell her to get her vision checked. No. Helen had her pride, and no one, especially not Betty, was going to tell her how to live her life.

Helen took a swig of her tea and nearly spat it out when she saw a tiny figure peek out from behind the door. Specifically, the door to Shiro’s home.

It was during moments like these that she was grateful she’d kept her late husband’s binoculars on hand — or at least in her purse. He’d been an avid birdwatcher and spent an exorbitant amount of money on these binoculars. Helen had wished he’d spent it on something more practical, but they did help her get a better idea of what was going on in the neighborhood.

She held them up to her eyes for a clearer picture. The person — as it was difficult to discern their sex from their scruffy appearance — opening the door looked like they has not slept in weeks. Their outfit consisted of ratty boxers and a stained shirt four sizes too big for them. Watery red-rimmed eyes squinted, either from the sun or from them glaring at the Con-Cost workers.

Though this person was tiny, there was no way they was Shiro’s child. Too old for that. Besides, Helen would’ve seen Shiro driving them to school.

A friend seemed unlikely. Someone like Shiro probably wouldn’t move to Florida with a friend unless they both had jobs out here.

Yes, Shiro didn’t wear a ring on his finger, but that didn’t mean he was definitely single. Besides, it was common nowadays for couples to live together. So that probably meant this person was Shiro’s significant other.

Helen had her reservations and concerns about the young man dating a slob of a Neanderthal she’d just seen let two strange workers into the townhouse across the street. Why on earth would someone like Shiro be in a relationship with… someone like that? Perhaps the man was ashamed of them. Made sense, as Shiro hadn’t introduced this strange person to them.

She wondered if Lucille knew anything about Shiro’s secret lover. And if she didn’t, poor Lucille might just humiliate herself in front of her family tonight.

Even though she and Lucille had their differences, Helen knew she had to tell Lucille before she made a fool of herself.

As she dialed Lucille’s number, Helen prayed she wasn’t too late.

* * *

Lucille had suggested that Shiro bring something to eat for the barbecue-slash-potluck, but given his lack of cooking skills, she’d also said bringing a game was also acceptable.

He’d brought none of these things save for the murmurs and awed stares from the woman’s family members:

“Is that who I think it is?”

“He’s my hero!”

“No way, there’s no way _he_ would be all the way out here.”

“Nana, you never told me you live across the street from Takashi Shirogane!”

“Ah, this is one of my granddaughters. Melissa.” Lucille nudged Melissa — a tall, lanky young woman whose blonde hair was tied back in a neat ponytail — toward Shiro’s direction. Perhaps a bit too forceful of a shove, as it sent Melissa stumbling into Shiro’s chest.

“Whoa there.” Shiro helped her stand upright. “Are you okay?”

Melissa fanned her face, which grew warmer and redder by the second. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just, you’re, well, you know… Captain of _Atlas_. One of the Garrison’s best fighter pilots. He’s right up there with Keith Kogane. Maybe even better than Keith.”

“Oh, so you already know Shiro then?” Lucille’s mouth set into a thin line, like she’d bitten into a _very_ tart key lime pie.

“Know him? Grandma, you live across the street from a _legend._ Takashi is a hero.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a hero or a legend. And just Shiro’s fine.” Shiro rubbed the nape of his neck. “Right now, I’m just a teacher at the Garrison’s new education facility.”

“Really?” Melissa’s eyes sparkled in admiration at this admission. “I’ve applied to join the Galaxy Garrison. Still waiting to hear back from them.”

White eyebrows rose, curious about the woman’s interest. “As a pilot?”

Melissa laughed like it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard in her life. “Oh, absolutely not. I’m thinking about coding or communications. Have you heard of Katie Holt? She completely revolutionized the Garrison’s navigation systems for their deep space exploring program. She’s the reason I got into coding, and I should be hearing back from the Garrison soon, I hope.”

He flashed a crooked smile as he remembered Pidge finishing up that project after downing too many cups of coffee after two days without sleep. By the time the caffeine caught up with her, she’d fallen asleep at her desk. He’d wrapped a blanket over her tiny shoulders and stole her glasses and stowed them away in a safe spot. “I may have heard a thing or two about her.”

“Really?” Melissa couldn’t believe her luck. What were the odds her grandmother lived across the street from the Black Paladin who might know one of the most brilliant minds of her generation? “I heard she was one of the Paladins. Can you believe it?”

Shiro’s smile grew with the pride swelling up in his chest. He had one hell of an amazing girlfriend, that was for sure. And he was damn lucky to have her. “I sure can.”

“Don’t get my little sister started.” A bespectacled man with sandy hair offered his hand — the one that wasn’t holding a cheap light beer — and shook Shiro’s own hand with it. “Hector.”

“Shiro.”

“It’s a pleasure.” Hector gave a salute, which Shiro returned with a bit of a flourish. “Come on, sis, next thing you know you’re gonna say is that Shiro here knows the Altean princess on a personal level. Katie Holt isn’t a Paladin. Besides, last I heard, she was expelled from the Garrison for breaking and entering. Almost charged with treason.”

Shiro clamped down on a “well, actually” about to slip out of his mouth. Instead, he wished Melissa the best of luck. “I’m sure you’ll get in. They’re always in need of coders and comm specialists.”

“Maybe.”

“Hey, don’t get so down on yourself. Listen, if you’re really worried about your application, how about I get you in touch with my —”

“GIRLFRIEND?!” Lucille’s exclamation drew the attention of relatives and friends like pesky mosquitos to murky water. She dismissed their confused looks with the wave of a hand, and their conversations continued like nothing had happened.

Lucille hissed into her cellphone, quieter than before. “What do you mean he’s got a girlfriend?”

“Well, I don’t know if who I saw was a girl,” Helen admitted.

“What do you mean? You’ve got either boy or girl. How can you say she — or he — isn’t one or the other?”

“Well, I’ve got a grandkid who says they’re not either one. I don’t quite understand what they means — instead of he or she, they asked me to call them ‘they.’ And because I love that grandkid, I obviously do as they asked. I simply don’t want to assume anything. You know what they say, to assume anything makes an ass out of you and me!”

“I don’t care,” Lucille snapped. “If he’s gay, that’s fine. I’ll set him up with a grandson.”

Ignoring what she’d said about making assumptions, Helen cut Lucille off. “I think Shiro is dating the person I saw. Cohabitating, even. So it might be serious.”

“Let me get this straight. He’s been dating this, this gremlin, and hasn’t even bothered to introduce us to them. Clearly he’s ashamed of her —"

“ _Them._ ”

“You know what I mean, Helen!”

Melissa walked up to her grandmother with the biggest grin on her face. “Hey, Grandma?”

“Listen, Helen, we’ll talk later about this at Bridge Club, alright? Yes, you’re invited again. But no more fighting with Betty. Goodbye.” She hung up on Helen and looked to her precious granddaughter. “I’m so sorry about that, Lissa. So, tell me, what did you think of Shiro?”

“He’s sweet, and he just offered to introduce me to his girlfriend. Apparently, she’s ex-Garrison, but she studied a lot of the stuff I do and is doing freelance work with it, so I’m hoping she might be able to give me some advice—”

“So he does have a girlfriend!” _In your face, Helen!_ Even if Shiro wasn’t single, at least she was right, and Helen was wrong. Shiro had a girlfriend who was indeed a girl, and he couldn’t bear to go out in public with her. Heck, maybe she didn’t even live with him. Even _if_ Helen had seen some weird person in Shiro’s house, that didn’t mean he was dating that person.

Lucille cackled. Oh, how good it felt to be right.

* * *

“Welcome home, Florida man.” Pidge’s voice dripped with suggestion, though the way she waggled her eyebrows made Shiro question his girlfriend’s intentions.

Shiro closed the door behind him, lest he deal with any more reptiles in the house. At least the geckos and other small lizards weren’t nearly the size of that gator. “Florida man?”

“It’s the latest in your string of titles: Champion, Black Paladin, Commander, Captain of _Atlas_ , and now, Florida man.”

Shiro frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“That’s fine.” Grabbing him by the hand, Pidge dragged Shiro into the living room and shoved him onto the couch with a startling amount of strength. “I’ll show you.”

Though Shiro knew what Pidge was capable of doing (to him), he stared at her in awe. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Pidge gave a grunt of affirmation. The smart television screen held her attention captive as she ran some sort of search with the holographic keyboard. “And there it is.” She tapped a button then fell back into the couch.

Shiro wrapped an arm around Pidge’s petite waist and pulled her closer to him. Warmth filled him as she leaned against him, sharp jawline poking into his arm.

“In other news, an unusually good Samaritan decided to help one animal cross the road. And no, it was not a chicken.” The reporter faded into black as the next clip began to roll, though her voice continued on: “Ever heard the one about the alligator that made it to the other side? No? Well, this gator made it, but not without the help of a brave man, whose actions were caught on a bystander’s phone camera.”

Sure enough, there he was: all muscle and silver hair, cradling a giant alligator in his arms like it was a newborn baby and walking it over to the sidewalk.

“Yet another day of my boyfriend going viral.”

“Viral? This was just local TV; I doubt that it’s that big of a deal. And chances are, no one will recognize me.” _I hope._

Shiro’s stomach flipped at Pidge’s shit eating grin. “You really think you’re going to hide under that Garrison uniform and teach for all eternity?”

Both Shiro and the couch groaned as he shifted his weight to lean further back into its cushions. “I’d _like_ to. I mean, maybe people just think that I’m some crotchety old man who’s fed up with waiting on alligators sunning themselves in the middle of the road.”

“Physical capabilities aside, a crotchety old man from Florida wouldn’t pick up a gator. He’d probably just run it over. Those things are everywhere here!”

Shiro made a mental note of that, should a gator block his path anytime in the near future. Or just over the next two years that they’d be stuck in this swamp. Oh, great. Now Pidge’s complaints about the location were getting to him, too.

“Oh, by the way, that video is already at a million views. Like it or not, babe, you’ve gone viral. _Again_. I just know Good Morning America is going to be calling us tonight.”

As if on cue, the phone rang.

“I can almost guarantee that’s for you.” Pidge hopped up from the sofa and stretched, popping a couple joints in the process. “I’m going to bed,” she said through a yawn. “I’ll see you there in a bit.”

* * *

“Hey, Pidge?”

Cool metal digits prodded her bare shoulder, signaling Pidge to wake up. It’s a welcome sensation, a reprieve from the heat and humidity. “What?” She propped herself up on an elbow, head resting in her hand.

“Sorry to wake you.”

She rubbed at watery eyes. “‘S fine. What’s going on? Did you have a nightmare?”

“No. I haven’t had the time to go to sleep yet since going viral.”

Pidge cracked a smile. “Told you so.”

“I know, I know. Well, you did. Always do.” Shiro cleared his throat. _Focus,_ he reminded himself. “Well, because you’re right, as always —” Shiro didn’t miss the way Pidge puffed her chest out at his admission. “ — a talk show wants me to be a guest.”

“That’s great, babe! I’ll get the webcam up and running for you.” Pidge rambled for a little bit, throwing out words and terms Shiro didn’t quite understand.

“Well, it’s more that they want me to fly out to New York City for an in-studio interview. They’ll pay for plane tickets. Two if I ask. So, what do you say? Do you want to ditch Florida and go to NYC for a three-day weekend?”

Pidge sighed. That sounded heavenly. A weekend without humidity, fewer allergens, and maybe even walk around in Central Park in reasonable fall weather. “I wish I could. I really do.” She heaved another sigh, slightly more exasperated this time. “I’ve got a pretty big coding project that’s due, and it’s a pain in the ass. Plus, it’s a challenge. But I like those. I don’t get enough of them.”

“Okay, I’ll go ahead and decline the trip.”

“The hell you will.”

Shiro didn’t see that one coming. “What?”

“It’ll be fun. I mean, you have to teach in the worst weather imaginable, and no, I’m aware you have air conditioning on at full-throttle. I’m sure it’ll be a nice little getaway, and it’s New York City, Shiro! New York City! I’m going to be pissed if you don’t go because I’m staying here. You go and accept those tickets. Besides, I can’t wait to hear about one of those little shits you teach freaking out about seeing you on TV.”

“They’re not that bad.”

“Shiro, you say that about every kid you’ve mentored and stuff. Hell, even Keith was that bad. He stole your car!”

“No one’s stolen my car since Keith. And technically it wasn’t even my car. Just a Garrison-owned vehicle. So not that bad.”

Pidge rolled over onto her stomach to groan into her pillow. “If that’s the standard by which you judge a student’s behavior as ‘bad,’ I think you need to reassess a few things.”

“Keith still ended up being one of the best pilots.”

“Whatever. I’m going to sleep, and you’re going to New York City. End of conversation.”

Shiro pulled the pillow from beneath Pidge’s face. “Not quite. I forgot to tell you that I met someone — “

“This is not how I imagined us breaking up,” Pidge mumbled into the mattress.

“I’m not breaking up with you, and you know it.” Shiro gently whacked Pidge on the back of her head with her pillow. “Have you heard of Melissa Styers?”

And just like that, Pidge shot up out of bed. An impressive feat, considering that Shiro hadn’t even gotten around to making coffee. “Duh! Dad said her application to the Garrison was scary good! He said she’s a genius, and you know that’s not something he says about just anyone, so I know she got in. I mean, he told me, so I know for sure. Besides, the Garrison would be stupid not to accept her, but then again, the Garrison has made some pretty fucking stupid decisions in the past —”  

Shiro silently agreed that Pidge’s criticisms of the Garrison were valid. Instead of voicing his agreement, he stayed on the subject of Melissa. “She just so happens to be the granddaughter of one of our neighbors across the street.”

“No way!”

“Way.” That got an eye roll out of Pidge. “And she’s a big fan of Katie Holt’s groundbreaking work and is convinced she’s also the Green Paladin, though her brother says otherwise. Tell you what, if I go to New York City this weekend, I’m going to tell Melissa that she should come over and meet you. And maybe you guys can work on that project of yours together. The one that’s being a pain in the ass.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Pidge tore her pillow out of Shiro’s hand. “Deal.”

* * *

Lucille sipped her coffee and scrolled through her tablet for the daily news. Hardly anything was printed anymore to preserve trees and oxygen and whatnot, so she and pretty much everyone else relied on tablets. She only had a few hard copies of print books and magazines, which were packed away, gathering dust somewhere in her attic or below her bed. She couldn’t remember where she’d placed them years ago.

Deb, the tablet’s assistant voice, informed Lucille of “1 new message from Helen.”

“Deb, read the message.”

Deb did as commanded: “Lucille, did you see this? It was on the news last night.” Deb began spelling out a string of words and numbers that made no sense — a link. “Deb, stop.”

“Very well.” And so Deb stopped reading.

Lucille tapped the link, which opened up a news article: _Florida man with robot arm carries gator to other side of road_. A video played in the tablet’s upper right-hand corner as Lucille tried to read the text. The video, however, held her attention, whereas the written words did not.

Lucille nearly choked on her coffee as she watched Shiro carry an alligator to safety, splattering some of the hot liquid onto her tablet’s screen.

Damn, she _really_ needed to get him and Melissa together. Not only was he a gentleman and a war hero, but he was good to animals — even those pesky gators!

 _Ding-dong!_  “I’m coming!” She patted down her hair and readjusted her teal robe once more. She hadn’t expected any company today. Who could it possibly be?

Lucille answered the door, mouth slightly agape when she came eye to… Shiro’s pecs. What she wouldn’t give to be 40 years younger. “Hello, Shiro! Come in, come in. What brings you here? Is everything alright at home? Here, take a seat. I made banana bread; do you want some?”

Shiro ducked, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the door frame and Lucille’s questions as he entered her quaint home. He took a seat on a cushioned barstool in her kitchen. “I’m here to ask about your granddaughter.”

Lucille swallowed down a gasp. Was he asking for permission to date Melissa? “Of course! She’s a wonderful girl.”

“Oh, that’s great. I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries since we just met.”

_What a gentleman! They just don’t make men like that anymore, do they?_

“I asked Helen to watch the house since I’ll be gone this weekend, but I was worried it might be too much for her. I’ll get in touch with her right away and tell Helen she won’t have to worry about it. Thanks so much, Lucille!”

Before Lucille could ask Shiro anything else — What did he plan on  he was gone.

* * *

“Thanks so much for helping me out on such short notice, Melissa.” Shiro fiddled with his house key until he knew the door unlocked.

“Oh, don’t sweat it. At the very least, I want to apologize on behalf of my grandmother.”

“Huh?”

Melissa pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m pretty certain she’s been trying to set us up on a date. And no offense, but I’m not interested.”

Shiro couldn’t help but laugh as he lowered his head before entering his house. “I’m not, either. But are you sure that’s what she’s trying to do?”

Melissa nodded. “Definitely. Oh, and I’ve gotta say, I didn’t think the famous Takashi Shirogane would live in a townhouse he has to duck upon entering.”

“Well,” Shiro said through one last laugh as he held open the door for Melissa. “As it turns out, life’s full of surprises. And one of those is that the Garrison doesn’t pay their teachers as much as they do pilots.”

“Or coders or programmers, for that matter.” Leaning against the office door was Pidge, grinning like a Cheshire cat behind a pair of glinting glasses. “Not that I’d let that stop you from working there. I’ve got my own… personal issues with the Garrison.”

Melissa’s jaw dropped. “Oh. My. God.” She elbowed Shiro and hissed, “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re dating _her!_ That’s —”

Pidge offered a hand. “Dr. Katie Holt, former Green Paladin of Voltron and ex-Garrison comm specialist turned freelance coder, programmer, and robotics specialist. And you must be Melissa Styers.”

Melissa paled. “And I must be dreaming.” Suddenly feeling woozy, she pressed a hand against her forehead. No fever. She pinched herself. Not a dream. “I-I need to sit down.”

Shiro guided Melissa to the kitchen and onto a bar stool. He mentally thanked Pidge for insisting on buying the set that had a cushy leather back on it, though he wished she could’ve picked out something shorter. But no, Pidge liked feeling tall, so bar stools — chairs? — it was.

“Way to go, Shiro, you broke the new Garrison recruit. What am I supposed to tell my dad now, hm?”

Color returned to Melissa’s face. “Wait, Garrison recruit? But I haven’t heard from them yet.”

“I’ve got my ears and eyes there.” Pidge looked at Shiro with a devilish grin. “So, Melissa, can I get you anything to drink? We’ve got coffee, tea, water…”

“W-Water to start? No, wait. Tea. Coffee? Uh, whatever you’re having.”

Shiro made his way over to the coffee machine while Pidge took a seat next to Melissa. “If you’re having what she’s having, I hope you like your coffee black and strong.”

Pidge laughed. “It’s not a trick question, and besides, I’m ex-Garrison. Nothing you say or do here will impact your future there. Trust me, I want as little to do with them as possible.”

“Then why invite me over?”

“Because my girlfriend needs to have some sort of social life, and I thought you guys would get along.” Shiro set down two mugs of coffee in front of the women, then rummaged through the pantry and refrigerator for sugar and cream.

Pidge felt her cheeks burn. “Shiro, that is not true! I still talk to Hunk, like, every day, and Lance and Keith and Allura and Coran, too.”

“You know what I mean,” Shiro replied as he brought sugar and cream back to the table. “Besides, who’s going to remind you to eat and sleep when I’m gone?”

“Ugggh…”

Melissa stirred a spoonful of sugar into her drink as she listened to the couple banter. She tested it, then crinkled her nose at the taste. _Still too bitter,_ she thought, reaching out for more sugar and possibly cream.

Shiro noticed Melissa’s grimace and chuckled. “I warned you Pidge likes it strong.”

“No kidding.”

“So,” Pidge started, her voice louder than before. “Melissa, you’ve got to tell me more about what it is you put in your application that’s got my dad talking about this new brilliant student nonstop.”

“Of course!”

Shiro gingerly sipped his own cup of coffee, watching Pidge and Melissa talk about something he couldn’t even begin to process or understand. They were in their own world, speaking their own language. His heart fluttered as he watched his girlfriend ramble on and on, the way she used to talk about tech with her family and Hunk and Coran and Allura, for the first time since they’d moved to Florida.

Maybe, just maybe, this move had been worth it.

He placed a hand on Pidge’s shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt your conversation, babe, but I need to pack since I fly out tomorrow.”

She intertwined her fingers with his. “Go ahead.” Pidge tilted her head back so she could see Shiro’s face. “Melissa and I can entertain ourselves.”

“I know.” Shiro leaned over, his lips meeting hers in a chaste kiss. “Have fun.”

“I’ll try, though I doubt it’ll be as fun as New York City.”

* * *

Shiro swore Pidge jinxed him. Was New York City fun? Yes. But losing his only suitcase at the baggage claim, freezing to death while trying to hail a taxi and getting shit on by pigeons at Central Park were not fun.

Not to mention he couldn’t sleep in the hotel room. It felt wrong to have a king-sized bed to himself. He’d tossed and turned with nightmares about Pidge, that something had gone terribly wrong in their little Floridian townhouse all because he’d left her there.

But no, she was fine — great, even — according to her texts.

Maybe that was why he was glad to be sitting in a studio with brushes tickling his face as interns and crews made the bags beneath his eyes vanish. It meant he was closer to going home and seeing Pidge.

“Captain Shirogane, we’re ready for you.”

Shiro drew himself up to his full height, towering over the poor intern who’d been tasked with taking care of celebrities and other guests. Shiro hoped he hadn’t given the kid too much trouble.

The intern escorted Shiro into the studio, fluffed up the guest sofa’s cushions, then left.

“Cameras rolling on five… four…”

Shiro took a deep breath as he listened to the countdown and imagined himself back at a spacecraft’s helm. In control of the situation. Leading efficiently. Patience yielding focus.

“Hello, and welcome to Good Morning America. I’m Isabella Eisner, and today, I am here with Captain Takashi Shirogane. While most of us are familiar with him as the Galaxy Garrison’s captain of _Atlas_ , he’s also known for his daring alligator rescue that’s gone viral.”

“Thank you for having me.”

“Always a pleasure, Takashi.” Isabella flashed a smile, revealing perfectly aligned too-good-to-be-natural-white teeth. “So tell us, Takashi, what brought you to Florida in the first place?”

“Well, the Galaxy Garrison relocated its education center to Cape Canaveral, and let’s just say when your wife’s father says you’re the perfect person for a teaching position, you don’t say no.”

Isabella leaned forward as she devoured each and every one of Shiro’s words. Did he just say wife? Well, this was one way to inform the public about a marriage — and she’d gotten the scoop! Her smile grew. “A wife? I had no idea you were married.”

Shiro looked like he didn’t know what to do with his face. “Sorry, I did say wife?”

“You did.”

“I meant ‘girlfriend,’ but maybe it’s because we’re so close or something that I already kind of see her as my wife?” A crimson flush spread from under his collar. He rubbed the nape of his neck, hoping that maybe it’d stop it from spreading to his heating face.

Isabella deflated but continued with a barrage of questions. “So tell us more about your girlfriend then. What’s she like? How serious are you two?”

Shiro’s smile lit up the entire studio. “Katie is amazing. She’s an absolute genius who’s capable of kicking ass — oh, sorry, I’m probably not supposed to say that. She’s strong and is maybe one of the best things to have ever happened to me. She’s saved my life more times than I’ve saved hers. I’m just lucky she was willing to move to Florida with me, especially since she’s had terrible allergies since she was a kid. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” He looked away, his smile smaller than before. “Sorry, I just… I get carried away when I talk about her.”

“Aw! I hope she knows how lucky she is to have a guy like you.”

Shiro forced himself to make eye contact with Isabella, though it was clear that was the last thing he wanted to do.  “I’m lucky to have her, really.”

* * *

Lucille’s home bustled with bridge games and gossip once more. Oh, and Helen.

Lucille had rescinded Helen’s banishment from bridge club. Helen was nosy — then again, who wasn’t in this neighborhood — but a purveyor of useful information. Since Helen informed Lucille about Shiro’s maybe-sort-of girlfriend, Lucille decided that made Helen an asset and therefore, a woman worthy of being in her bridge club. Again.

That, and she was the most reliable bridge partner Lucille ever had.

Helen could almost feel Betty’s gaze reach for the cards in her hands. She clutched them against her chest. “Lucille, did you see the news yesterday?”

On the other end, Lucille had no qualms about anyone seeing her cards as she fanned herself with them. “Of course I did, Helen,” Lucille snapped. “What sort of ignorant buffoon do you take me for?”

“I just thought it was very cute when Shiro started talking about his fiancée.” Helen’s chair squeaked as she shifted her weight.

The cards in Lucille’s hand ceased their movement. “Fiancée?”

“Well, in the interview, he said that someone named Katie was his wife, then said she wasn’t. Just his girlfriend. But the way he talked about her… there’s no way she is going to be a girlfriend much longer.”

“What interview are you talking about? He asked my granddaughter out.”

“You’re bluffing.”

Betty sighed. Now that Lucille had stopped fanning her cards, she couldn’t see anything. And Helen was playing her hand wisely by keeping it out of her line of sight. Tuning out Lucille and Helen’s bickering, Betty glanced out the window. A tall blonde woman stood at on the porch with a duffel bag.

“Lucille, someone’s at the door? Blonde, kinda looks like you?”

Lucille craned her head. “Ah, that’ll be my Melissa.” She set her cards down, then eased herself up out of her chair to go and answer the door. “Lissa! Thank you for stopping by!”

Melissa hugged Lucille. “Anytime, Grandma! Is it okay if I crash here for a bit?”

“Of course, of course! Come on in.” Lucille practically dragged the her granddaughter by the arm into her kitchen. “These are my bridge club members: Helen, Betty, and… who’s this?”

The forgotten old woman huffed. “Gertrude. Betty’s bridge partner. I’ve been here for 10 years, Lucille. _10\. Years._ ”

“No worries, Gertie,” Helen said with a devilish grin. “Lucille’s been struggling with the onset of early dementia. Besides, I thought we were your friends, Lucille.”

Gertie laughed until her dentures fell out, splattering saliva all over the table. “Mm sho shorry about shlat,” Gertie said, shoving her false teeth back into place.

“It’s fine,” Lucille said in a tone suggesting it wasn’t fine.  She clicked her tongue at Helen. “And you, Helen. Don’t push it.” She sat back down in her chair. “You are my neighbor and bridge partner.”

Melissa grinned. “It’s lovely to meet all of you.”

“Likewise.” Mischief twinkled in Helen’s eyes. “So tell me, what’s dating Shiro been like?”

That earned Helen a kick from beneath the table. “Helen!” Lucille hissed. “You can’t ask a young woman such personal questions.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” Melissa tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “We’re not dating. Trust me, he is taken. _Very_ taken. But that’s okay because his girlfriend and I got to hang out this weekend. In fact, the two of us were giggling at his little slip-up on the news. Which is one reason I left, actually. He’s coming home early, and I thought that they’d like some time together, one-on-one. In fact,” Melissa glanced out the window, “It looks like he’s home.”

The elderly women craned their heads toward the window. “This isn’t going to work for me,” Helen said as she hobbled to her feet. “I am going to watch from the porch. Does anyone else wish to join me?”

Creaking bones, popping joints, and stiff groans answered Helen in affirmation.

* * *

Across the street, a sleek Uber glided to a smooth stop.

Both car and townhouse doors opened in unison.

Lucille’s breath got caught in her throat. She _had_ to see for herself what Shiro’s secretive hermit of a significant other looked like.

A suitcase made an ugly _thud_ loud enough that most of the bridge club ladies flinched at the sound. Its wheels squeaked as Shiro rolled it behind him at a sluggish pace. He opened his mouth in a gaping yawn, which slipped into a handsome grin as he saw _her._ “Pidge!”

She was a green blur billowing in the slight morning breeze. This Pidge, though a petite little thing, was powerful enough to nearly knock that muscular mass of a man off his feet.

“‘Pidge’? Is that the best greeting you can give your _wife_?” Her eyes shined like the sun and crinkled in the corners with laughter.

Shiro’s smile grew brighter, wider, happier as he scooped up Pidge into his arms. “You’re right,” he declared with a laugh. “This is clearly why we aren’t married.” He twirled her around, letting her green dress flutter in the wind. “You look amazing.”

“You were wrong, Helen,” Lucille said. “She’s very pretty. You sure I’m the one who needs her vision checked?”

“Well, you _did_ think it was going to be open season on Shiro,” Helen replied. “Then you tried to set up Melissa with Shiro —”

“Grandma, we’ve had this conversation before. I am not interested in dating anyone right now.”

“I’m sorry. I just worry about you and your future. I mean, I know you’re smart enough to do anything you want, but I just… I want you to know you could do anyone you want, too. And Shiro is a kind young gentleman, and I know he’d treat you right.”

Mortification colored Melissa’s face crimson. “ _Grandma!_ ”

Betty and Gertie snickered.

Melissa whirled around at them with enough force and speed to give herself whiplash. “Don’t encourage her. _Please_.”

“Lucille! Helen! Melissa!” Shiro waved at the women as he crossed the street, one arm wrapped around his tiny girlfriend’s waist.

Helen glared at her friends. “Shush, all of you!” For Shiro, she plastered on a giant smile. “Good morning, Shiro!” she exclaimed. “Who’s this you have with you?”

Shiro pulled Pidge closer to him. “I’ve been meaning to introduce you. This is my girlfriend —”

“Ha! Wrong again, Helen!”

“ — Katie Holt.”

Lucille’s wrinkled forehead creased in thought. That name was so familiar. Where had she heard it before?

“Please, call me Pidge.”

Still didn’t ring a bell.

“So you must be Lucille. I’m guessing Melissa takes after your side of the family. Oh, and by the way, your peanut butter cookies are delicious.”

Oh. Oh! She was that _Katie!_ “Pardon me for asking, but how do you know my Lissa?”

“Shiro introduced us. She helped me out with some projects this weekend and basically kept me sane. You should be very proud of her. The Garrison needs more people like her. I can’t wait to hear about the work she’ll be doing there.”

Melissa squealed. “Thank you, Pidge!”

Lucille cleared her throat. “For the record, I am very, very proud of her.”

“It’s lovely to finally meet you,” Helen said, taking Pidge’s hand in to her own. “I’m Helen. And these ladies are Betty and Gertrude.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Also, don’t trust Betty with anything. She’ll cheat you out of everything: money, home, and husband.”

Pidge laughed. “Well, it’s a good thing that Shiro’s wrapped around my finger. I don’t think he even knows other women exist outside of me. But I’ll take note of that.” Pidge tugged on Shiro’s arm. “Listen, it was nice meeting all of you, but Shiro and I need to catch up.”

“You two do that,” Helen said. “I’m not going anywhere. You know where to find me.”

“Sounds great, Pidge. I’ll stop by with some peanut butter cookies for you. Maybe I’ll even give you the recipe.”

“That would be fantastic, Lucille.” Pidge tugged on his arm again, pulling a little harder in the direction of their house.

“Maybe don’t give her the recipe,” Shiro quickly added. “She’s a terrible cook.”

Pidge snorted. “Yeah, like you’re one to talk. Now come on, let’s go.”

The women had to stifle their giggles at the sight of Pidge practically dragging Shiro back into their house.

Lucille sighed. “You know, I don’t quite get what he likes about her…”

“...but she makes him happy,” Helen finished for her friend. “I mean, the way he looks at her makes my old heart flutter.”

A tired smile settled on Lucille’s lips. “Yeah. You’re right. Anyways, let’s go finish our game. Or restart it. Pretty sure Betty is looking through our cards right now.”

Helen laughed. “I told you she’s a cheater!”

* * *

“As nice as it was to have company, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Shiro collapsed onto the couch with a content sigh.

“So, how was New York?” Pidge settled down next to Shiro. “Tell me all about it. I’m sure you had a great time, right?”

Shiro heaved a shrug. “Eh, it was… kind of terrible, actually.” He told her of his misadventures that had not been captured on camera. Pigeons shitting on him, getting lost, and failed taxi hailing attempts. “Let’s just say this: It’s good to be back.”

Pidge hummed in agreement. “It’s good to have you back.”


End file.
